


Left Handed

by Anonymous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Billy Hargrove Is a Scumbag, Billy Hargrove Lives, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mistaken Identity, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Billy Hargrove, Post-Season/Series 03, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: At a Halloween party, Billy finds Max passed out and blindfolded in a bedroom.-Climbing the stairs in whoever’s fucking house this is, Billy searches for a bathroom that isn’t locked. He’s in a good mood. That good mood has him gently checking all the doors up here instead of kicking them in. The bathroom up here is locked, too, but there’s a master bedroom somewhere. The house is too big and decorated with false wealth for there to not be an en suite in the master bedroom. The last door Billy steps in front of is ajar slightly. He’s already peeked into a linen closet and two bedrooms, so this is the master suite.It’s quiet beyond the door with soft light spilling across the floor. Just one lamp on somewhere. Humming under his breath, Billy pokes a finger into the door and nudges it that much wider open. Enough to bow his head and find the king-sized bed. And the body passed out on the bed. Long, pale legs. Bloody, white dress pushed up to expose her. The only reason Billy’s stomach doesn’t drop is because he knows it’s not real blood. It’s a costume. Max dressed up as Carrie from the movieCarrie.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 22
Kudos: 78
Collections: Anonymous





	Left Handed

**Author's Note:**

> A joyous Friday to my friends in the Billy/Max tag. Welcome, y'all. I do so hope you're looking forward to Monday's update of "Pickle Juice." Especially if you're hoping maybe Max =3c takes the initiative sometimes. It was a fun chapter to write. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, [take a gander](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492850) at what you're missing!
> 
> The rape tag is there because of the past referenced non-con somnophilia. And that Max doesn't know it's Billy right away, but she planned for Billy to fuck her. So rape tag it is lol. 
> 
> My next one-shot to come out will be "Show and Tell." Not sure when. I'm also trying to work on my next plot fic, but I don't have the urge to write. So it's slow going. We'll see what happens =D

Billy’s tangle with the Mind Flayer ruins most things for him. Ruins eating; ruins his body; ruins his flare for life. He misses the first month of his senior year learning how to not wake up screaming every morning and how to keep food down. Tricky when he remembers the mass of flesh and bones and teeth dragging him down. When he remembers Heather and her parents. He knows what bleach and antifreeze taste like. Lucky for him and his grand dreams of burning rubber out of here and speeding back to California, he’ll still graduate on time.

Beer, pot, and sex had been the only things that took the edge off before all that shit happened. Those things used to dull the razor edge of him for a little while and just let him be. Now they’re more of a chore than anything, although that doesn’t stop him from bumming around house parties. He’s still the life of the party even if he’s not in costume. His scars are good enough. It’s Halloween. He huffs a single, humorless laugh behind the mouth of his beer. To think a year ago he owned all this. Now? He wouldn’t care if it all rotted out from under his feet. Fuck this town and everyone in it. He can’t wait to escape.

Climbing the stairs in whoever’s fucking house this is, Billy searches for a bathroom that isn’t locked. Just to be alone for a blessed second and separate from the writhing mass of teenagers downstairs. It’s a mix of all the classes, although any freshman poking around probably don’t belong. He’d seen Maxine drag her little boyfriend around. Although the last he spotted her sneaking a Solo cup into the punch bowl, she was alone. She’s maybe why he’s still here. To make sure she ends up going home with him. To avoid a brush with Neil. Being declared legally dead a few months ago isn’t enough to soften Billy, isn’t enough for Neil, either. It’ll pick back up again—the shoving and smacking and yelling. It’s only a matter of time, and Billy would rather not get that ball rolling tonight. He’s in a good mood.

That good mood has him gently checking all the doors up here instead of kicking them in. The bathroom up here is locked, too, but there’s a master bedroom somewhere. The house is too big and decorated with false wealth for there to not be an en suite in the master bedroom. The last door Billy steps in front of is ajar slightly. He’s already peeked into a linen closet and two bedrooms, so this is the master suite. It’s quiet beyond the door with soft light spilling across the floor. Just one lamp on somewhere. Humming under his breath, Billy pokes a finger into the door and nudges it that much wider open. Enough to bow his head and find the king-sized bed. And the body passed out on the bed. Long, pale legs. Bloody, white dress pushed up to expose her. The only reason Billy’s stomach doesn’t drop is because he knows it’s not real blood. It’s a costume. Max dressed up as Carrie from the movie  _ Carrie _ .

So this is where she’s ended up. After spying her sneaking spiked punch, he turned a blind eye on her mischief and stepped outside for a smoke. His clout is still powerful enough for high schoolers who don’t even know him to offer a hit or two off a joint. The weed is just as shitty as it was before his life paused for two months, doesn’t do much other than make his grins slicker. Lazier. Makes him remember other times he got high back in California and maybe crawled into the wrong bed at home. Memories he mingles with now like friends at a party—of baby-soft thighs under his rough hands. Memories of delicate girl passed out from cold medicine and how much he could get away with. His tongue. His fingers. His cock. The sight of Max breathing so gently takes him back to that, and it’s like he steps straight into his memories her little friend couldn’t touch. Lucky for him.

Nudging the bedroom door open wide enough to slip in, Billy twists the handle to close it behind him. There’s a lock on the knob. A real lock he can twist, not one of those little buttons on the side that practically begs to be popped. So he’s satisfied that they’re alone and won’t be interrupted when as he approaches the bed, beer ending up on top of a dresser. Hands on his hips, he appraises Max’s nudity. With her costume pushed up like this, sleeping softly with her hair spread around her, she looks like a painting stolen out of a museum. She does not stir with him so close, just lies there with her hands gently fisted by her head. The front of her dress is ruffled like someone had their hands all over her little tits. That and the rest of her, of course.

Someone has already gotten to Max, although they had the courtesy to wear a condom. A strip of cloth is tied around her pretty hair and face to block her eyes. Her hands and ankles are free, though, so this blindfold is more playful than anything. Someone must have pushed her drunk ass off her feet and fucked her where she fell. Her panties still dangle off an ankle. Some lacy white thing she must have shoplifted at some point. Or someone stole them for her. Something. This doesn’t look like the handiwork of Lucas Sinclair. Billy’s upper lip may twitch in a snarl when he thinks about the kid, but he wouldn’t fuck Max and leave. They’ve got some puppy love bullshit between them. No, this is the handiwork of some drunk or high senior who wanted a taste of something pure. Too bad for them, because Billy knows for a fact Max isn’t a virgin.

He’d taken care of that years ago. She still doesn’t know about all those times with double doses of cough medicine sweeping her into unconsciousness. Just enough to make her writhe a little while he fucked her but not enough for her to open those big eyes and look up at him. To see him. They haven’t done that in over a year. He thinks about it plenty when nothing else comes close to getting him off. Thinks about her soft and peachy in her bed, slipping her covers and clothes off to kiss and bite every inch of her. With a hand cupping himself through his jeans, Billy doesn’t know when or how it’d started.

Maybe peeping at her in the bathroom while she’d twisted this way and that to look at herself. Maybe hiding in her closet while she laid on her bed and let dainty hands touch herself. A curious little girl. She was too young and green to understand how any of it worked. It took a while, those first times with her passed out, but he taught her body pleasure. It clearly understands pleasure well, now, because Max twitches in her sleep with a tiny moan. Between her pale legs, slick catches the dim light in here. Calling to him. Touch me, taste me, fuck me.

It’s not a call he ignores. Biting back his own groan and feeling more himself than he has in months, Billy sinks to his knees. The calluses of his hands glide over the chilly ridges of her shins, up her inner thighs, and then gently push them apart. Max doesn’t stir, her body plenty pliant in her drunken slumber. He wastes no time at all pressing his nose to the wisp of red hair on her mound and inhaling the girly musk of her. She’s still a tomboy at fourteen. Isn’t concerned with flowery girly things. Isn’t worried about covering up the natural scents of her body. Up until they’d moved here, he was the one to do their laundry. Was still in the habit of cramming her dirty underwear to his face and jerking off in the laundry room. It’s so much deeper, richer straight from the source, and he can’t help the moan that vibrates right against her clit. Can’t help sliding his face over short hair and lapping at her with the flat of his tongue, only pausing when she startles hard.

He’s right back into her, though, the moment she relaxes. Worse come to worst, he can flip her over face down and fuck her that way. She’ll never know it was him. He doesn’t have a condom, though, doesn’t care as he grips her thighs and presses kitten licks to her hard clit. Already buzzing with blood and eager for touch. Someone had definitely fucked her good before he found her. He growls against her, back of his neck stinging from how the little hairs on him rise up. Someone else fucking Max would have made him see red before summer. Now he just wants to make her come on his tongue, fuck her better, leave her with something to remember him by. He doesn’t have a condom, has never used one with her. Never will.

Eyes hooded as he slides his tongue down to flick at her wet hole, Billy catches the sight of little hands waking up. Reaching for him. If Max touches his hair, she’ll know it’s him. So he snatches her wrists and guides them to the bed beside her hips. When she whimpers and gives a slight tug, he sits up from eating her out and presses gentle kisses around her navel. Tension and nerves wind her up. She’s not sober enough to put up a real fight, but lucid enough to be afraid of what’s happening. So he kisses all over her exposed belly where her costume is pushed up, pauses to pant into her mound again. When he licks her short, trimmed hair, she giggles above him. He does it again, smiling around his tongue when she wiggles. Ticklish.

“Shhh I’m not gonna hurt you,” he whispers. It’s a risk, because she may recognize his voice. But he needs this, needs her, so he has to soothe her. “Gonna take care of you, just be a good girl for me.”

His thick forearms pin her thighs down when he brushes his tongue in long laps up her pussy. Max’s head isn’t clear enough for her to form words. She just gasps and twitches under him, moans so softly when she catches her breath. He knows exactly how hard to lap at her, how to seal his lips around her little clit and suck to make her hips pop into his face. Like always, though, his strength is absolute and guides her right back to the bed. He knows every twitch, every tremble, every gasp of hers. Knows how to curl his tongue against her sopping hole and make her cant her hips higher. Offering herself. Again, it’s a call he can’t ignore, so he slides his slick mouth back to her clit and sucks harder than before. She comes just like this, trembling against his face and bucking when her needy hole snaps around nothing. Max’s fluttering, breathy moans make Billy twitch in his jeans. He’ll give her plenty in a moment. This first so she lasts longer when he’s pounding into her.

A wet spot already dampens the sheets under her butt when he pulls his mouth away. After one last kiss, though, just to catch her oversensitive flinch under his arms. Billy flexes his hands when he releases her wrists. He hadn’t meant to hold her so tightly. She may bruise. Oh how long he’s wished to leave marks on her. That is much too much of a risk. Even before when she was little and constantly covered in bruises from falling off her skateboard, it was too risky. It would only take one lovebite to send her running to Susan and pointing it out. Susan already doesn’t care for the way he’d bullied Max when they were younger. She’s a clever woman, would see the oily gleam in his eyes for what it is. How he fucked her daughter while she was still tender and mild in her Disney pajamas. When she was probably too tiny to take him comfortably. Max isn’t a little girl anymore.

Hovering over her with his hands busy at his belt and zip, Billy eats up the flush of color under Max’s blindfold. It’s a makeshift one, but he trusts it enough to push his jeans out of the way and tug his cock free. Already hard in his hand, hips stuttering when his thumb plays messy games with precome at the head. It’s been far too long since he was able to pet and squeeze the thighs he loves so much, was able to stand between their milky paleness and rub the blushing bits of them together. He does it once with a grin on his face, watching the way Max flinches and shies away from the caress. Sensitive. He does it a few more times until she whimpers and throws her head around, spreading the curtain of her hair like a bloody halo. It’s appropriate for her costume. She didn’t leave the house looking like this, must have snuck the costume out and changed. She’s beautiful splayed under him where she belongs, beautiful where he guides the blood-hot head of his dick to her hole and pushes forward.

Billy shushes Max’s whimpers as he slides in with one smooth roll of his hips. Left hand slapping into the bed to hold himself up, his right is clean at pets over her hair. He needs a second, buried as deep as he’ll go, to just take in the velvet sensation of her around him. How terribly he’s missed her. It feels like every other cow he’s fucked in this town. But this is Max. Max is his, always been his. The tight clutch of her fits him better than anyone else. Done petting her hair, he can’t help but grab a meager handful through her costume and squeeze. If he plays with her tits enough, he may be able to pinch her rosy nipples through the material. That always gets her to tighten up on his cock. She doesn’t even know how sensitive she is, he bets. She doesn’t know her body like he does.

Hands draped lazy and casual over her hips, he towers over her while thrusting into her. Gentle and slow at first. Maybe she isn’t even aware of a dick in her right now. Max is almost as quiet as she’d been with his mouth on her. The party downstairs is loud enough to cover up even the most shrill of screams. He’s never heard her cry out like he wants to. Never heard her pant his name or beg for more, or for him to stop, no more, she can’t come again. Every time he’s fucked one of these Hawkins girls with their big, teased hair, he does it with them face down, ass up. So he can twist cruel, ugly fingers into their hair and pretend it's Max. The redheads make it even easier. The one time Tommy let him fuck Carol….

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, head falling back as he pops his hips harder into Max. Hard enough to jar every soft inch of her. Billy’s head yanks back down until his chin is in his chest so he can watch the way her body clings to him every time he pulls back. His left hand trembles when he shifts it down to hold her open. So he can see. “Fuck, fuck…”

Billy’s hands get Max around her tiny waist to slam her on his dick as he rolls his hips forward. Her pretty head is tipped back with her mouth open, panting quietly. Spreading his feet wider under him, Billy changes the angle to fuck up and into her. He knows her so well, knows this is just what she needs to loosen her throat and make all manner of high-pitched noises for him. Whimpers and bubbling whines, moans popped out of her when their bodies meet. The bed is too big for them to move it. Not like her bed back home. He makes the springs squeak in that old thing, can fuck her hard enough to make the whole frame sway. He’ll contend himself with bouncing her loose body on his cock, loops a hand around one of her thighs to hike it higher. He slides that much deeper into her and grinds his pelvis into her clit. Finally she cries out, throws her hands down to find his wrists and hold on. Her hand wrapped around his watch flinches away, but she reconsiders it when he begins to thunder into her.

Max’s whimpers flow out of her non-stop, only pausing so she can breathe or swallow drool. Billy tries his best to bottle his own sounds. She’s never been awake to hear him fuck her, but she’s been around plenty when he worked out or did yard work. Max is smart as a whip and just as cutting. Billy wouldn’t put it past her to recognize his grunts from those passing moments. Still, he cannot help himself when he snaps his hips hard into her to pop out moans. Pretty, twinkling things that are equal parts pleasure and pain. He knows jamming his cock into her like this hurts a little. She’s not a little girl anymore, but she’s still small. He grinds his hips to make her take every inch of him, burrowing deep to fill her. It won’t take much more to make him come. He wants to be balls deep when he does, can’t convince himself to pull out and come on her trembling belly. She’s his. He’ll do whatever he wants with her, and that includes pumping her full of come and leaving her a mess. She’ll never know it was him.

Max’s moan’s turn higher and louder. Almost there. He pants with her, whispering under his breath, “Right there, right there, I got you, baby. I know you like that, that’s the spot.”

His heart lurches inside him when she nods. It stops entirely when Max’s moan sounds suspiciously like, “Billy.”

Billy’s hips come to a stop with him buried in her. He doesn’t move. Max nails dig into his wrists. Her body is still loose with booze—and maybe something else, he’s not sure—but she finds the strength in her to shift on him. To fuck herself on him. Billy bites himself to the point of blood when he throws his head back. He won’t get caught up in her moaning his name. She could know another Billy, is drunk or high out of her mind. She doesn’t know it’s him, but her whimpering his name again makes something kick hard inside him. It drives him to move again and pound into her harder than before. His thrusts turn choppy, stuttering as he nears the tipping edge of his orgasm. He has to watch, though, has to watch the last slick glide of him inside her before he claims her.

So with his chin in his chest again and his eyes burning from how dry they are, Billy leaves his mouth open in silent moans as he bucks once, twice, and then grinds himself into her one last time. As deep as he’ll go, every thick inch of him filling her up. He knows she can’t feel him spilling inside her in messy, violent bursts. But he’s already excited to pull out and watch it drip out of her. It will add to the wet spot under her when he rips his hand free from her grip and swipes his thumb cruel and dry over her clit.

Her whimper is pathetic and desperate when she snaps around him. It won’t take much to make her come again. This hurts, he knows it hurts from the direct contact. The rest of his fingers shove into loose, pink skin so he can drag his thumb over her nerves. Skin to skin until she’s numb and shaking on his cock, fluttering around him from overstimulation. Even when she scratches at his wrist and watch band, he doesn’t stop. Not quite soft yet, Billy pulls back maybe an inch only to slam into her again. It breaks the seal between them, has his come spilling out of her in a filthy gush. The smack of their bodies had been loud and lewd before. It’s so much more with sticky come between them. Glancing up, the light is bright enough for Billy to see Max’s face flush bright red. She hears it, that greedy way her body clings to him. He just hikes her thigh higher, pops into her harder, and rubs her faster. More, more friction, more power, until her chest bows off the bed and a single, shrill scream rips out of her. Again, it sounds like his name. He doesn’t read into it.

Billy leans weight into her and stays inside her all through each velvety snap around him. Merciful now that he’s used her hard and fast, he leaves her poor clit alone. She’ll be sore tomorrow, twitches now as nerves kick from overstimulation. He does wishes he could come again. He could if he stood here long enough to get hard. But the booze or drugs will wear off, and then Max may be lucid enough to peek from under the blindfold. That’s a mess he isn’t interested in dealing with—when is he ever interested in messes, truthfully. He’s made a mess of her certainly, towers above her to take it all in.

The older she gets, the more her body responds to his. It’s better now even if he misses the peaches and cream softness of her. She has hips, now. A waist. Tits. She’ll only get more beautiful as the years go on. Maybe this is the only way he’ll ever have her—stumbling upon her drunk or high at parties. It’s certainly enough to make him stick around once he’s graduated. Can’t let any random asshole take a piece of his baby. Max is his, always has been. He won’t leave without her.

Right hand a little cruel at her jaw as he yanks her head around, Billy hovers over her and just looks at her. The way her lips are bitten dark and parted to let her pant. The spread of freckles on her cheeks are so vibrant with her blush dark red under them. Her throat clicks when she swallows. Below, she wiggles with him still standing between her thighs. No longer nestled in his favorite place, too soft and wet for that, but he cages her in all the same. He shouldn’t do this. Well, he shouldn’t have done any of this. But that would require him turning back time to about six years ago and the first time he snuck into her bed. And he wouldn’t do that for anything in the world. Not to undo them moving here, not to undo the Mind Flayer. None of it. He’d rather have her, and so he takes her lips in a mean, biting kiss. Maybe she’ll remember the way he shoves his tongue into her breathless mouth. Or the way he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip when he’s done with her. Maybe she won’t remember any of this at all.

He says nothing while pulling away from her and shaking her hands off him. Max says nothing, too, lies there even messier than when he’d found her. Hopefully no one discovers her after Billy leaves. If he were a better person, he would clean her up. To conceal what he’s done or to let Max save some face. But he won’t. If he had a camera, he’d stand here and frame the perfect picture of her debauched and used so he could look at her forever. Instead, he photographs her with his mind and tucks the image away with the rest. How Max’s freaky friend didn’t discover his dirty, little secret, he’ll never know. Billy just takes it as a sign that he wasn’t meant to die, wasn’t meant to leave Max. At least not permanently. He digs in his pocket for cigarettes and a lighter as he turns on his heel, unlocks the door, and then shuts it behind him. If Neil or Susan ask where she is, he’ll claim she’s at a friend’s house. Maybe they’ll buy that.

It’s maybe two months later, during New Year’s Ever, he finds his position flipped with Max’s. Different house. Different party. But he’s comfortably stoned and drunk, crossfade helping to dull the thunder of music below. He’d stumbled up here in search of a quiet, dark place to just lie down for a little while and feel the earth move under him. Finally some half-decent weed, better than something that will just dehydrate him and make his head throb. He’s tingly all over and enjoying himself on the bed when the bedroom door opens and shuts. Quick and soft. Someone knew he was in here. It’s pitch black in here, though. Turning a light on would have defeated the reason he came up here. So he has no idea who climbs naked on top of him. Just knows it’s a girl when his hands lazily bump into her thighs and then find her waist. And then her mouth finds his in the dark.

He thinks of Max. Because the darkness is a blessing. Because in the dark, the girl squirming in his lap rocking her ass against his dick trapped in his jeans could be anyone. And if he could have anyone rubbing on him right now, it would be Max. So he groans into the girl’s mouth and slides his hands down to grab her ass. It’s tiny, but there’s plenty to get his paws on. She hums against his lips and kisses him harder the next time they meet. In the dark, his eyes go wide when she turns their twisting tongues on him, filling his mouth. Something in his stomach drops out, though, and he rips himself away from her. Too close. It’d been too close to his nightmares—something forcing his teeth apart and jamming down his throat. 

Panting, she leaves him alone only to scoot back. Little fingers light as a mouse pick at his belt, button, and zip. It’s a repeat of most of the times he fucks a girl—tugging his jeans open and down enough to get his dick out. He’s almost grown used to the teeth of his zipper pressed to his balls. Only sucks when skin gets caught, but he barely feels anything right now anyway. Just wet tongue, thankfully not in his mouth anymore but lapping at the underside of his head. That’s a much better use of her mouth, he thinks, and his hands search for her hair in the dark. Mean smacks to the backs of them like he’s a boy in a cookie jar deter him. Which confuses him, because nothing truly deters him, and yet his hands come to rest in the duvet under him. He knows it’s the correct choice when plush lips drag over his head. Not swallowing him yet. Just teasing him with the idea of it.

“Fuck yea,” he grunts, letting his head plops back into the bed. “Open wide, baby, lemme fuck your throat.”

A single laugh huffs against his skin. Think that’s funny, does she? She must, because she takes him in both hands, spits on him, and strokes her palms over the mess. If he’s going to use her mouth, he needs to be hard. Makes sense even to his muddled brain. Billy’s legs hang off the edge of the bed from about mid-shin down. He could maybe find purchase if he bends his legs tightly and wedges his boots on the edge of the mattress. They’d probably slip right out, though. Whatever, the springs under him are spry enough that he can roll his hips into her grip and fuck the circles of her hands. He’s rather fuck something else of course. And she’s naked. She came here for a ride.

“Come on,” he pants, still snapping his hips into her hands. He’s hard enough. Hands trembling, he grabs at her thighs and digs his fingers into her. “Come on, baby, know you want this dick.” 

She hums and squeezes him tighter. A hiss drags between Billy’s teeth when she swirls her thumbs on the sensitive underside of his head. His hips bounce her on his thighs when he pops off the bed.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Don’t tease. Suck me, fuck me, whatever just mmm just hurry up. Goin’ soft.”

And he is thanks to the weed and beer. A terrible combination if he’s trying to keep it up. Youth and lust are on his side. Because she sighs above him, squeezes him hard one more time, and then climbs back up him. So it won’t be her mouth but something even better. Billy isn’t disappointed when she stoops above him in the dark and grabs his cock to rub on her. She flinches and whines a little while she plays games with the hard bits of them. He’ll find her clit in the dark and pinch and stroke it all she wants. Just get on him already! When Billy tries to take her hips and hurry this along, though, she lets him go to smack his wrists away. 

He doesn’t play that game, shoves his hands right back to her hips. She wiggles and thrashes, but she’s not squirrely enough to escape him. The lithe strength of her is nothing to the cords of his arms. How he yanks her forward on her knees, controls her with one hand, and guides them together with the other. Her hands fall to his button-up shirt. Buttoned only halfway up his chest, of course. The scars bring him no sense of pride but do increase his sex appeal. Somehow. At least to the glassy-eyed cows in Hawkins. If she’s at this party, then she’s seen him before. Her hands do not shy away from his scars, slide right over them to grab at his pecs. And squeeze him like he has tits.

Billy’s snarl is only for himself when she giggles above him. Mocking him. So he takes her waist in a bruising grip, uncaring if he hurts her, and drops her hard onto him. Up and down, again and again has her biting back moans immediately. Charged blood fighting through the haze of his high, Billy gathers his strength under him to snap his hips up when he tugs her down. They meet with a wet slap in the middle. He fucks more whimpers out of her that way. Her hands on his chest twitch as they give up their mocking fondling. Now she holds on to him for dear life as he jars every soft inch of her with his thrusts. He slows only to glide his left hand up her flat belly to grab whatever she has for tits. They’re small, so perfect and little enough to fit in his hand. Like Max. Let her grow into her hips and ass, let her waist curve out. Just let her tits stay small. They’re perfect the way they are. She’s perfect.

“Max, oh fuck Max,” he pants. Billy presses his head back into the bed and holds her still while rabbiting into her. The slick between their bodies is filthy and loud, louder than her whimpers. “Love the way you feel, baby, fuck.”

Would Max be so bold like the girl on top of him? Would Max help herself to his drunken state, climb on top of him, and ride him hard like this? He hopes so as he slows down, sweat on his brow, and rolls nice and slow into her. The bruising grip on her waist lightens. If she wants to move with him and match his pace. If she wants to help fuck herself. He lets out a deep groan from the bottom of his throat when she plays along. Her own deep moan hums out of her every time he slides in, nudging her. She’s so little in his lap. Must be a short girl or a freshman. Billy adjusts his hands on her waist, petting her every time she lifts herself. They shiver as one when she drops her weight back into his lap. Hard enough to jar him and force an ache into his hips. Fucking him hard back.

He murmurs curses and Max’s name some more. Above him in the dark, her moans rise from the bass in her voice to high-pitched whines. Billy snaps his hips hard again with a laugh. She’d been moaning like him, all deep and guttural. But now she can’t keep her voice from going high because of him. And fuck if that isn’t hot. Another laugh pops out of him, and he can’t help himself when he lifts his left hand to slap at her tits. She squeals and falters on her knees, falling on him hard enough to bounce them. She’s even cuter when his thick fingers find a nipple and pinch it. Gently at first, only enough to make her gasp. And then harder until he’s rolling it and tugging on it. Only teeth in her lip stop her from crying out. Billy just lets her go only to smack her tits again. That unlocks her teeth and earns him another yelp.

“Wanna hear you when you come on this dick,” he growls up at her. “If you wanna come, then scream.”

Hands back at her waist, he yanks her down while lifting his hips up to meet her again. She whines above him for the first few pops, but quickly a name spills from her lips. Almost sobbing.

“Billy!”

Never heard his name cried like that before. Billy’s voice leaks into his panting when he keeps up the pace, desperate to hear her again.

Between panting, she whimpers, “Billy,” over and over, throwing in a soft plea or swearing to mix it up. When he groans long and loud, about to come, she matches him. They rise with each other, longer and louder, higher for her. Whoever comes first, he doesn’t care at this point, just chases that sweet edge. Let him tip over into the abyss. He wants it, finds it when she clenches tightly around him and starts wailing as she comes. 

“Fuck, Max!”

Even with his eyes open to the dark, he imagines her bouncing in his lap. Clawing at his chest and his scars as she bucks on his cock. He forces her down hard on him and then twitches under her. Just like Max at that Halloween party, he grinds himself into her as he fills her up. Unlike last time, though, he won’t be able to enjoy the other part of this. He’ll just replay all the drenched, sloppy memories of Max he has filed away. Bending her in half to get as deep as he could, sitting back to watch his dick twitch while he came. Billy shudders breathless and holds the girl down to stay deep in her. He bucks hard as he recalls plenty of times coming in Max and then holding her open to watch everything spill out. Only to gather it up in his fingers and force it back into her, cramming every finger except his thumb against her sweet spot and making her come again. The girl in his lap whimpers as he grinds into her more. She must be burning from so much attention to her clit. He wants to make her come again, head too full of Max to stop.

Holding the girl down with one hand, his left drags down soft skin. She startles hard and cries out when he slides her clit between his thumb and index finger. Her moans and whimpers sound just like Max as he rolls her poor clit back and forth. He remembers Max making these noises, too. Shortly before they’d moved here, Billy may have stolen a sleeping pill from Susan so he could spend more time with Max while their parents went on a date. Hours of holding Max down, eating her out until his jaw was sore, fingering her until his wrists ached, fucking her until he came dry. He had to carry her to the bathroom after that. Washed her up so carefully and tucked her back into her bed. She complained to Susan, quietly amongst themselves, that she was very sore in her underwear the next morning. Confused. Unaware of Billy smoking under the kitchen window, hearing her clear as day. But nothing came of it. He’s been wanting to do that again now that she’s older. Maybe he will.

She bucks and squeezes around him when she comes just like any other girl. Still, he likes to think it’s Max. Especially when she whines and starts scratching at his wrist. Billy thinks he catches her begging for no more, please stop, too much. Thinking about Max just makes him want to shove her face-first into the bed and keep grabbing and squeezing her. Nobody tells him what to do. He doubts he can get hard again any time soon. It’s a miracle he came at all—as pissed as he is. So he’s not too upset when the girl sits up on her knees and lets him slide out with a filthy gush. She has the nerve to sit in his lap, knowing his come drips out of her right onto his jeans. A growl is ready in his throat, but she shifts on top of him. Closer. Breaths puffing on his lips and then gentle pressure. 

This time, her tongue does not try forcing its way into his mouth. She’s learned that lesson. Instead, they play coy games through the narrow gaps between their lips. It’s strangely playful, her lapping at him like this and humming against him. Bold. No girl has ever kissed him like this before. Even the overly confident ones who all turned into shrieking whores when he climbed on top of them. Her hands find his hair, and he takes the liberty of kissing her harder, shoving into her mouth. A pretty moan tingles on his tongue, and she twists her fingers around his curls to tug on them. Harder enough to pop a groan out of him. When they separate, her pulling back and keeping him down by his hair, Billy is the one to groan. Her weight is firm on his hips. She isn’t leaving yet.

Panting, Billy gathers his wits to slur, “Who the fuck are you?”

The bedroom is silent except for the rasp of them panting. Each puff of their breaths mixes together until the air is humid between them. Again. The knees straddling him shift away. And then she staggers back and off him, standing with a stumble. Billy lets her go, pats a hand on the front of his jeans. His hand lifts off sticky, the smell of him thick and bitter on his skin. Grimacing, only interested in making a mess of her, Billy turns his head towards the soft sound of her dragging her feet on carpet. When the room floods with light, he hisses and throws a hand up to shield his eyes. He hasn’t even tucked his dick back into his jeans yet. At least he’s not standing up and letting come run down his thighs like her. Freckled thighs and fiery hair between her legs. Max’s legs. Max’s everything, once he blinks colorful spots out of his eyes and finds Max staring at him from across the room.

“Huh,” is all he can manage.

With his arms braced behind him, Billy looks Max up and down. He’s definitely not hallucinating or dreaming. He fucked Max two months ago, knows her better than she knows herself. Again like something stolen from a museum, she’s beautiful and soft and flushed in the low light. Perfect. Something in those green-blue eyes forces her to meet his despite the way she clenches her fists at her sides. Nervous. Even her shoulders hunch up like when he’s hounding her about something and backing her into a corner. It’s always such fun staring down at her until she drops her eyes, pulse jack rabbiting away in her neck. If he stares long enough, crowds her long enough, she starts to shake and beg for him to go away. He always lingers a second longer and watches the way she nearly collapses when he finally gives her space. It’s a rush. Even now he feels it as she squirms under his attention.

“Well?” She asks, voice rough from screaming. Like he told her to.

Tongue in his cheek, Billy levels a hooded stare at her instead, letting off on the gas, and then jerks his head back.

“C’mere.”

She could fight him. Could pick up her clothes and slip right back out of this room. It would be over, then. He’d moaned her name without prompt and without hesitation while they fucked. Ah, but so did she. Moaned it like it wasn’t the first time, her whine dragging on the Y. So she’s not as innocent as he thinks. Especially not when she approaches the bed after pausing for a second at the light switch. Billy sits up the rest of the way, grabs her by the waist again and tugs her back to the bed. She climbs up like a dream and sits on his thighs, her own milky ones spread wide around him. Nevermind the mess on the front of his jeans. Billy grabs Max by the hair and yanks her into his chest, holds her there with their faces close.

“What are we gonna do about this, Maxine?”

He purrs her name and catches her shiver with his free arm looped around her waist. He keeps her close like that even as she begins to tremble. Her hands grip his shoulders. For balance or for her nerves, he’s isn’t sure. He just allows it.

“I knew it was you,” she blurts out, off topic.

Billy loses some of the smolder in his eyes when he blinks at her.

“What?”

Max’s nails bite into his shoulders when she says, “At the Halloween party. I brought Lucas upstairs to have sex with him. When he was done, I told him to go home, that I had to leave with you. That I’d be okay alone. When you came in and I grabbed your wrists I… Well, no one wears their watch on their right wrist. Only you do that.”

“I wear my watch on my right because I’m left handed, Max,” he drawls neutral and bored. 

Max scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. It also felt familiar what you were doing. Like you did it before.” She squeezes his shoulders and shuffles in his lap. “I have dreams of you doing this sometimes. Whenever you gave me cold medicine to make me go to sleep when we were younger. I’d always have dreams about you fucking me.”

Not dreams. So she knew somehow—what he was doing to her. Billy keeps a straight face with the crosshairs of his secret on him. Ready to fire one right between his eyes.

“Dreaming about your big brother, huh?”

She’s never the one to deny they’re siblings. Doesn’t even refer to him as ‘step-brother’ but as ‘my brother.’ It’s Billy’s turn to tighten his hands on her. He holds her down in his lap. His belt and zipper are still undone, so he grinds into her ass a little. Those big hands of his are ready to catch Max’s startle when she jumps.

“Billy!”

“Maxine,” he whines. His grin is unleashed and wild. “You coulda come to your big brother a lot sooner, you know. I’m always here for you, whatever you need.”

“You’re disgusting,” she hisses, hands sliding down to push at his chest. 

“Pot calling the kettle fuckin’ dirty! You moaned my name pretty loud, Max. Don’t think I’m the only disgusting one. You should tell me all about your dreams, too, I’ll make them come true.”

He winks at her, grin still strong. Max flushes beet red to her hairline. Her freckles stand out so pretty, just like on Halloween.

“I shouldn’t have done this. You’re a pervert!”

“Says the girl who climbed on my dick.”

“Says the guy who moaned my fucking name! So what’s that about, huh?”

Billy shrugs, won’t even have to lie.

“I’ve got a thing for redheads. And you’re not my sister.”

Max shakes her head, murmurs almost to herself, “What the fuck am I doing…”

Billy squeezes her waist and bumps their noses together.

“Fucking me like a dirty, little secret. You can keep that boy toy of yours Sinclair. But he wears a condom. Every time. I don’t do sloppy seconds.”

Max scoffs, “You fucked me at the Halloween party after Lucas! How is that not sloppy seconds?”

“Condom, Maxine, keep up.” It’s Billy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Use them with everyone but me.”

“What makes you so special?”

Billy leans into her, forcing her back, and murmurs against her lips, “Cuz you’re mine, and I’ll do whatever I want to you.” Fingers in her hair, Billy yanks on the strands to bend Max’s head back. His words still puff against her lips. “Besides, you let me come in you twice. Most girls hate it.”

“It was gross.”

His lips brush hers when he purrs, “Then why did you let me?”

She trembles hard against him, whimpers, “I don’t know.”

“Maxine.”

She just claws into his shoulders and surges against his mouth. Mindless to his thick fingers pulling on her hair. He opens to meet her with barely a lap of her tongue to the seam of his lips. They share a hum or two before Billy uses that grip in red locks to pull Max away from him, ending their kisses. Her little hands remain on the shelf of his shoulders. Her nails are ten points of pressure where she digs into him.

“I-I like it, okay?” Her eyes pinch shut like he’ll hit her. Sometimes he wants to, but never like this. Like they’ve seen time and time again. Max trembles in his arms and mumbles, “I don’t want anyone else to do that. Just you. I only think about you doing that to me.”

“Fuck that’s hot,” he murmurs right back, biting a kiss to her lips just to hear her whimper. “I told you I can make all your dreams come true, Max.”

Max grumbles, “You’re lame,” even as she tugs against his hand to kiss him. He indulges her for a few laps of their tongues before denying her again. “Billy!”

“What a brat,” he says to himself. To Max, “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, Max, we coulda been fucking forever ago.”

“I’m only 14!”

Billy makes a face at her, says, “If you’re old enough to bleed, you’re old enough to breed, Max, isn’t that the saying?”

Red all over, in her ears and down her throat, Max shrieks, “Billy, that’s gross!”

“Says the girl who only wants me to creampie her!”

“Oh my god, Billy, shut up!”


End file.
